Black Moves First
by Slave2Writing
Summary: Earthly pleasures don't generally interest the Dark Lord. But Voldemort is curious enough to give it a try just once. And Bellatrix is more than happy to help him.


**Black Moves First**

"You really haven't ever…?"

She supposes this shouldn't surprise her so much. He is powerful, egotistical (she loves him but there is no denying this), and the epitome of self-sufficiency. To have to bare himself in such a way to a person, to have to stoop to _need_ a person would be hard for him. But tonight, he honors her with a visit.

"No. And I'm going to need complete silence if this is to work."

This will be hard for her. She bites her lips as he begins to make his move. The crackle of the fire, the soft rug beneath her excited form. She remembers the many delights on her honeymoon, the irritated hotel patrons knocking on their door, yelling through the walls. Rodolphus covering her mouth, urging her to keep it down, even though they both knew her screams excited him. Excited them both.

"But surely you know how… all the pieces move?"

"I've been around Bellatrix. Just because I haven't actually partaken doesn't mean I haven't watched."

"Of course. Sorry."

"I think I can figure out how they all fit together."

She takes a breath, nervous as he moves closer. Her heart is hammering in her chest. She cannot quite imagine that this is really happening. She's stuck in every moment, feeling everything of every minute. _Will he take his time? Or does he go fast? How long will it last? Should I try my hardest, meet his every move? Or just please him by letting him take me?_ She dismisses that last thought. Her lord likes a challenge, and so she will give him one.

"Alright, begin."

She waits patiently after his declaration, staring at the narrowed slits for eyes, fingers flexing nervously on her knee. "Um, my lord?"

"I said 'begin', Bellatrix."

"Yes, but, you're supposed to make the first move."

"Oh? Oh, yes… yes, now I see… there, how was that?"

"Oh, um. Just - just fine, my lord."

She falls silent, trying to figure out if there is something she can say, or if she should just act herself.

"You don't sound very pleased."

"You told me to stay silent."

"Why aren't you pleased?"

"Well, it's just that you're not moving it correctly."

He stares at her, face clouding over in an expression she fears and knows too well. "Explain…" he hisses at her.

"Well," She hesitates, then continues on determined. "For one thing, that was _my_ piece."

He blinks, peering down at it. "It is?"

"Yes. Merlin, you really haven't done this before have you?" There is clear irritation in her tone now. He needn't have told her to be silent, this is utterly unexciting.

"It seemed different when I was watching."

"You must have always come in the middle of it then." She sweeps her long dark curls off her back onto her shoulder, bending forward a little more, the flickering orange blazes playing across her patrician nose and mouth. "Look, just put your fingers on this – no! No! Not _that_ one." She watches him stiffen and immediately backtracks. "You can move it there later; it just wouldn't work well now until you backed it up more."

"Don't talk down to me, Bella. Don't forget that this is a onetime thing."

She tilts her head incredulously. "Forgive me, my lord… but once you start it up, there's absolutely no not going back to it again."

He sniffs contemptuously. "I hardly think it's that great. Perhaps for lesser mortals, but I'm engaging in this out of pure curiosity and no real desire."

She stares at him, parted mouth now straightening into a thin line. "Make your move. Correctly, this time."

He moves. There's silence except for the faint crackle of the fire. And then Bellatrix lunges. "Hah!"

"Oh!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Merlin, this is amazing. I never knew it could be so – "

"Don't stop! Don't stop! Don't stop!"

"Take this!"

"Oh! So good… but hah!"

"Damn! Oh, you're not going to dare move that – oh!"

"Like that one?"

"Here's one of mine!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! My lord, you came out of nowhere…"

"All those wasted years playing with myself…"

"Knight to h3."

"Pawn to e6."

"Rook to a8. Check."

"Oh! Didn't see that coming."

"Give up?"

"Never. What's this larger piece called again?"

"Your Bishop."

"Bishop! Capture her Queen."

* * *

He watches his last best lieutenant fall, the shadow of a laugh still etched upon her face. He imagines the green light straining into her chest as orange instead, playing upon her shocked face. He remembers the nights spent together, her screams of unbridled pleasure as they played in seclusion, neither able to go back to another partner. He screams in rage, brandishing his wand until only Harry Potter stands in his way.

There will never be another game. He will never again be able to play.

Black had made its last move.


End file.
